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A Big Blue Christmas Carol

Christmas Eve, 2014

The Louisville message boards are comedy gold. Kicking back in your recliner, you can’t help but chuckle as you read yet another thread about how the Cards can beat the Cats and how Montrezl will “go to town” on Willie Cauley-Stein, Dakari Johnson, Karl Towns, and company. “Man,” you mutter. “I can’t wait until Saturday.”

Suddenly, your living room is bathed in golden light. From the direction of the laundry room appears–what the hell, is that Bill Keightley?! That is Bill Keightley! What the heck is he doing here?

Mr. Bill gives you that soft, gentle smile as he approaches, making himself right at home on your grandfather’s Lazy Boy. “Hello, there,” Bill says. “I’m here to guide you.”

“Guide me to what?,” you ask. “Why are you here? You are dead! I cried at your memorial service! I even made peace with Rick Pitino that day!”

“It’s true, I’m dead,” Mr. Bill said, helping himself to a handful of peanuts from the coffee table. As he pours them into his mouth, they dribble straight through his chin, falling down his blue sweater. Holy crap, he really is a ghost. “But, I’m here to help you realize what you’re witnessing right now.”


“Over the next few days, you’ll be visited by three ghosts: the Ghost of Seasons Past, the Ghost of Seasons Present, and the Ghost of Seasons Future,” Mr. Bill said. “They’ll tell you more.” He pushes himself out of the recliner, grabbing one last handful of nuts before he turns for the door. “Merry Christmas. Go Cats!” The nuts clatter to the floor again.

“Wait, Mr. Bill!,” you panic. “There’s so much I want to ask you! Like, what do you think of the new Nike uniforms! I’m not a huge fan myself–“

But he’s already gone.


To say you’re on edge over the next few hours would be an understatement. Everywhere you go, you glance over your shoulder, looking for the first ghost. He doesn’t come until the next morning.

It’s the smell you notice first. Stale beer, dirty socks, and…cheese? Billy Gillispie stumbles into your kitchen wearing a bathrobe, tube socks, and one of those earflap hats that DeMarcus Cousins likes. He looks like Cousin Eddie from “Christmas Vacation,” if Eddie had been on a three-week bender. There are bright orange cheese cracker crumbs all over his face and robe.

“Hey there,” Billy says, with a surprisingly light slur. “I’m the Ghost of Seasons Past.”

Of course he is. On cue, he smirks.

“We’ve got a long way to go, so let’s get going,” Billy says, turning back to the door. “Let’s go.”

You follow Billy out to his golf cart (!), which has seen better days. He brushes some Dr. Pepper cans aside for you. “Where are we going?” you ask.

“Nashville. Heartache always starts in Nashville,” Billy says grimly. He stomps on the gas and everything goes white.


The golf cart putters to a stop outside Memorial Gymnasium in Nashville. Vanderbilt fans walk past you and through Billy as you head inside, and as you make your way through the narrow hallways to the locker rooms, realization dawns. This is the game Billy made Josh Harrellson stand in the bathroom stall. Sure enough, once you get in the locker room, you can see Jorts standing in an open stall, glaring at his coach.

“Now boys, boys,” Old Billy sweats, that smirk twitching. “This just won’t do. Tied with Vanderbilt! Tied with dorks.”

You glance around the room, at Jodie Meeks, Perry Stevenson, DeAndre Liggins, Ramon Harris, and Darius Miller, all wearing expressions varying from sad to mad to downright disgusted.

“No Patrick to bail y’all out tonight,” Oh yeah, Patrick Patterson missed this game with an ankle injury. “Y’all just need to be tougher. We’re not gonna lose to any dorks now.”

A toilet flushes, and Perry Stevenson does his best to suppress a snicker, but fails. “STEVENSON,” Old Billy roars. “Did you think that was funny???” Billy clumsily picks up one of those big Gatorade coolers and throws it across the room. It bounces against a locker with a dull thud. No one’s laughing.

Ghost Billy grips a can of Dr. Pepper and motions to you. It’s time to go. “We lost that game 77-64,” he mutters. “I made Josh ride home in the equipment truck.” He tosses the can across the locker room where it settles against the cooler and heads out.

You look one last time at the players’ faces. You want to tell them it gets better. It gets so much better.


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You’re just getting the tune of “Amanda” out of your head when the second ghost arrives (When the drunken ghost of Billy Gillsipie wants to karaoke, you karaoke). Perrin Johnson walks up to you as you’re checking the Christmas lights outside. “What’s up, man?” Perrin asks, dressed sharply in a black sweater, slacks, and red tie. “I’m the Ghosts of Seasons Present. We’ve got a trip to take.”

Even though Perrin’s a former Louisville player, you are comforted. He’s one of the good Louisville fans. Like Tony Vanetti and…well, that’s it. You follow Perrin to his car, and minutes later, you look up to see the UofL athletic department in front of you. “Let’s go,” Perrin says, laughing when he sees your face. “Man, don’t be so scared. No one can see you right now.”

The offices are even more garish than you anticipated. Their three National Championship trophies gleam in the dim light, and everything smells of Maker’s Mark. There’s enough red wax dripped over everything to make even Christian Grey blush.

Perrin rounds the corner to a half-open door. Inside, Rick Pitino is hunched over his laptop, hands in face. He looks ninety years old. Play diagrams cover every inch of his desk, and he’s got last year’s Sweet 16 UK/Louisville highlights playing on loop. Fascinated, you move closer and notice that Pitino has a Microsoft Word window open, with “L1C6” typed over and over again. Yikes. He sniffs loudly and sits up, and you jump back.

“L1C6,” Rick whispers softly. “L1C6.” He holds up diagrams of UK’s blue and white platoons to the light of his desk lamp, which does his face no favors. “L1C6.”

You look at Perrin with wide eyes. He nods sadly and motions to a giant bulletin board covered in clippings about UK’s 12-0 season. Cal’s face is circled in every picture with a fat red marker. You and Perrin turn to leave and as you walk out, you realize it’s Christmas.

Damn, we really have gotten to him, haven’t we?


You know exactly where to find the Ghost of Seasons Future. You stride into the Romany Road Kroger to find a smiling John Short at the checkout lanes. “Ready?” John Short asks. You nod, and you walk through the sliding doors. They open to an airy concourse of a gleaming new arena. “Where are we?”

“The new Rupp Arena. This is 25 years in the future,” Short says.

The first thing you notice is that not as many things have changed in 25 years as you expected. People still walk, they don’t fly to their seats via hovercraft. There are still bathrooms, albeit shorter bathroom lines. Hey, you can drink at the new Rupp 25 years in the future!

John leads you inside the arena to a seat in the lower bowl. The new Rupp is gorgeous, and your eyes immediately find the rafters, and you count fifteen National Championship banners. Fifteen!! They flutter in the breeze, and just as you’re about to ask how–is the roof retractable?–a voice booms over the speakers.

“Welcome to Calipari Court at Alltech Rupp Arena, where today, we will honor the 25th anniversary of the 2014-2015 Kentucky team, which won the program’s ninth national title.” BANG! The number 9 glitters in the air, after all the years you went to Rupp Arena and heard the fireworks during the intros, you still jump. “Please welcome to the court your 2015 National Champions!”

Alex Poythress, Willie Cauley-Stein, Andrew Harrison, Aaron Harrison, Dakari Johnson, Marcus Lee, Derek Willis, Dominique Hawkins, Karl Towns, Devin Booker, Tyler Ulis, Trey Lyles, EJ Floreal, Sam Malone, Brian Long, and Tod Lanter walk onto the court. Twenty-five years later, they look about as you’d expect, most of them dressed in what must be expensive clothes and shoes. Willie’s wearing an insane shirt and chunky gold chain. Karl’s still smiling like a fool. Even Sam Malone broke out the old headband. They all smile and wave, and the love flows between the Cats and the Big Blue Nation, who is on their feet, some with tears in their eyes.

“And your coach, a two-time National Coach of the Year, John Calipari!” At age 80, Calipari moves smoothly. His belly is bigger, his hair whiter but still full. He’s wearing a suit, no tie, and that grin we’ve all come to love. The crowd roars.

Sensing your question, John Short speaks up. “John Calipari coached five more years at Kentucky before he retired.” Short grins, and for the first time, you notice he’s wearing a KSR “2 BIGGUNS” shirt. “He was a Jim Dandy of a coach.”

Cal’s voice fills new Rupp, and if you close your eyes, it’s like listening to his first speech at Big Blue Madness all over again “You people are CRAZY,” Cal says to raucous laughter and applause. “Look up, look at all we’ve done!” The banners ripple and Short touches your arm. “Time to go.”

“But I have so many questions,” you plead. “Did we go undefeated? How many of those titles are Cal’s? Who was his successor? Can you still order Rupp Arena ice cream??”

“You’ll find out.”

“Is it just as awesome as it looks?”

“Yes indeedy.”


You wake up in your recliner with a start. Your laptop is still on your lap, and as you blink, the Louisville message boards come into focus. Wait…did that all happen? Shutting your laptop, you sit up and check your phone. It’s still Christmas Eve. You must have dozed off. It must have been a dream.

As you walk into the kitchen to get a drink, you hear a crunch. Looking down, you notice nuts all over the floor. There’s a Cheese Nibs wrapper on the counter. Smiling, you go back to your laptop and pull up the latest KyWildcatsTV highlights reel. There’s so much to savor, and never enough time.

Article written by Mrs. Tyler Thompson

No, I will not make you a sandwich, but you can follow me on Twitter @MrsTylerKSR or email me.

13 Comments for A Big Blue Christmas Carol

  1. AirForceOne
    8:46 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    I love the future!

  2. kuhlkat
    9:05 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    Outstanding post.

  3. javidnky2005
    9:35 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    Saw this and have to repost it haha.

    BLUE HOLIDAYS ‘Twas two nights after Christmas, n all through da ville The stink was a stirring, and the CATS were all chill; The cards were getting ready in their Adidas gear, In hopes they wouldn’t have to face us twice again this year; The children were all restless n hung up on Trez, Thinking they had a chance was all in their heads; When out on the court there arose such a clatter, card fans put down their Obama phones to see what was the matter; Away to the rim Willie flew like a flash, Tore the rim off and smiled thru his stash; When what to their wondering eyes should appear, But eight McDonalds All Americans and #22 standing near, With another possession and basket coming from the CATS, The whooping had started on their roody pooh ass; More exciting than ever more alley oops came, Cal then stomped, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Dakari! now, Marcus! now twins and Trey Lyles! On, Ulis! on, Karl! on, Booker and Stein! To the top of the Yum! to the top of the wall! Now dunk away! dunk away! dunk away all!” rick could do nothing but watch the CATS fly, Then he started to pray and look towards the sky; He began to pray loudly and ask for forgiveness He knew the CATS were stronger with no signs of weakness- And then, in a twinkling, he watched on the court The full court press and defense of an awesomeness sort. As he drew in his head, and was turning around, Jones with another turn over, he’d stepped out of bounds; Andrew with a nifty pass to his brother, Aaron drained a three, then another and another; Willie blocking Trez and running the floor, was awarded the oop on a tricky back door; Karl Towns in the mix with a block of his own pitino then grunted and started to moan. Then when he thought they would get tired real soon, Cal goes to the bench with his second platoon. Ulis at point and Booker raining threes, Lyles stealing passes and the dunking Marcus Lee. Dakari wants some action so he posts up down low No one could stop him from stealing the show. The second half came, but more of the same, #4 cards stood there and were all full of shame. As the final minutes ticked and was close to the end, rick played the white boys and that tall Egyptian. The CATS high five each other as they heard the fans cuss, Shook hands, then showered and loaded on the bus. The cards still in awe as they heard the CATS say- “We are on our way to hang NINE” and then drove away

  4. ukcats7
    9:39 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    I still miss Keightley. I found that in poor taste.

    • Mrs. Tyler Thompson
      10:24 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

      If you don’t mind me asking, why? I love Mr. Bill.

    • CATandMONKEY
      12:53 am December 25, 2014 Permalink

      It was written with respect towards Bill and even treated Billy and Rick pretty well. Tyler has been penning some fine prose lately.

      Merry Christmas to all.

    • ukcats7
      9:12 am December 27, 2014 Permalink

      I know you meant well, and the post is great overall. I just don’t like thinking of Bill as a ghost. Personal thing. Keep up the good stuff Tyler!

  5. abdrury
    10:29 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    Everyone knows Mr. Bill had a peanut allergy…sigh.

    11:20 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    Great stuff, go cats!

  7. UKfaninLou
    11:33 pm December 24, 2014 Permalink

    Dang, Tyler, another homerun! Merry Christmas to you and yours. Go Cats!

  8. Patrick_Wren
    10:38 am December 25, 2014 Permalink

    Another great job Mrs. TT! I knew there had to be another reason Matt put you in charge…..besides your great legs! Merry Christmas from your BBN Fans in Texas.

  9. buttercup
    2:19 pm December 25, 2014 Permalink

    This is fantastic. Merry Christmas, BBN.

  10. CatsFanFrankfort
    10:43 am December 26, 2014 Permalink

    Oh no! What happens to EJ Floreal in the next 25 years?! Why doesn’t he return with the rest of the team????